rom a mighty
furnace somewhere behind those hills of mystery. The _veldt_ lay
wide and dumb like a vast and soundless sea.

She stood awed, as one who had risen out of the depths and scarcely
yet believed in any deliverance. But the horror had passed from
her like an evil dream. She stood in the first light of the
dawning and waited in a great stillness for the coming of the day.

CHAPTER IX

THE MEETING

Joe, the Kaffir boy, bestirred himself to the sound of Mary Ann's
shrill rating. The hour was still early, but the big _baas_ was in
a hurry and wanted his boots. Joe hastened to polish them to the
tune of Mary Ann's repeated assurance that he would be wanting his
whip next, while Fair Rosamond laid the table with a nervous speed
that caused her to trip against every chair she passed. When Burke
made his appearance, the whole bungalow was as seething with
excitement as if it had been peopled by a horde of Kaffirs instead
of only three.

He was scarcely aware of them in his desire to be gone, merely
throwing an order here and there as he partook of a hasty
breakfast, and then striding forth to their vast relief to mount
into the Cape cart with its two skittish horses that awaited him
beyond the _stoep_.

He departed in a cloud of dust, for still the rain did not fall,
and immediately, like the casting of a spell, the peace of a great
somnolence descended upon the bungalow. The Kaffirs strolled back
to their huts to resume their interrupted slumbers.

The dust slowly settled upon all things, and all was quiet.

Down the rough track Burke jolted. The horses were fresh, and he
did not seek to check them. All night long he had been picturing
that swift journey and the goal that awaited him, and he was in a
fever to accomplish it. Their highest speed was not swift enough
for him.

Through the heavy clouds behind him there came the first break of
the sunshine transforming the _veldt_. It acted like a goad upon
him. He wanted to start back before the sun rose high. The track
that led to Bill Merston's farm was even rougher than his own, but
it did not daunt him. He suffered the horses to take their own
pace, and they travelled superbly. They had scarcely slackened
during the whole ten-mile journey.

He smiled faintly to himself as he sighted the hideous iron
building that was Bill Merston's dwelling-place. He wondered how
Sylvia appreciated this form of life in the wilderness. He slowed
d